Last request
by Left4Cookies
Summary: really short Grima/Eowyn oneshot luv them! Angst ahead!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: do not own. Whatever.

Ok, don't kill me, sadness ahead! With much _Grima_/Eoynness! (I love them  
so much!!!) No flames please, I'm not a fantastic writer, but I try my  
best, so be nice. I don't go into much detail about the "sickness" cause I  
don't exactly know what could have caused it, plus, who cares really??  
It's a story! Sue me if I'm not specific. (Don't really sue me I'm   
poor!)

---------------------------------------------------------

He had suffered in silence for so long. His own body had turned against   
him, slowly, agonizingly, eating away at him from the inside, out. Now,  
it would finally be over. No matter how much he hurt, he never let his  
sickness consume him, it was a burden he had bared all his life; it was  
the reason he was so pale, so weak. He had never let it control him,  
though he always feared it. But that was then, and this was now. Now he  
lay weak on his bed; the ragged rise and fall of his chest the only  
movement he made; Cold sweat clinging to his forehead; his eyes blurred  
from the uncontrollable tears that had formed in his eyes; the stinging   
sensation that ran through his blood, piercing his skin; these were his  
last moments, and he wasn't afraid.

In the midst of all his pain, he felt oddly at peace. His soul felt at  
rest for once in his life. He felt brand new. Alive. He had never been   
one to pray, but now, in this moment in his life, when all his hopeless  
dreams and intentions had been shattered, and there was nothing to save  
him, he prayed. All his bitterness, all his hate, all his sorrow had  
faded in comparison to this new form of life and death he felt now. He  
knew he was dying, and he accepted it. He was ready to give everything  
up. Even her. Eowyn didn't know he was dying, no one did. He wanted to  
die silently, without the mockery and celebration he knew would follow.  
He didn't care what they said anymore; but he did care what she said.  
All the years she had cursed him had left him a little more scarred  
every time. Maybe her foul words had helped contribute to his death, he  
did not know.

He pondered his unending questions in his head, not realizing the knock  
on the door. Whomever it was didn't stay patient for long, and after the  
third knock, made it a point to enter his room; _Grima_ laughed to himself  
when he realized he had forgotten to lock the door; Though seeing a  
corpse would be unsettling for the person who found him, he didn't  
think the people of Rohan would mind. They hated him and would probably  
rejoice over his body, eventually getting sick of the smell of his  
rotting body, and be forced to remove the corpse. He heard slow  
footsteps approach his bed, stopping along side him. Even though he  
couldn't see he felt eyes piercing his colorless face. He knew by the  
smell of her jasmine scented hair that it was Eowyn.

"Grima?" she whispered so quietly his already defining ears could hardly  
hear her. His weary eyes slowly fluttered open, only making out the   
outline of his maiden.

"Yes?" he answered, the struggle of speaking sending rippling pain up  
his throat.

She leaned over him, carefully sitting beside him on the bed. She had   
come to scold him for not being at her uncle's side today; she had not  
expected to see him like this. Her irritation had quickly depleted and  
surge of panic had erupted in her stomach at the sight of him. He  
looked deathly ill, but Eowyn told herself it was nothing that couldn't  
be fixed.

"...What is wrong with you?" she studied his eyes which seemed to look  
right through her. Grima drew a long breath, swallowing hard, trying to   
draw words from his dry mouth. "...I am dying, Eowyn..."

She was taken aback by his words. It didn't feel real, it was impossible. The one who haunted her steps, the one who loved her, the  
one she hated was lying before her, a shadow of what he once was. She  
shook her head coldly. "No, Counselor, you are not dying. You just need  
to rest." She knew even as she said it that it was a ridiculous  
statement.

"No!" he said forcefully, no matter how painful it was to speak, he  
wanted to get his point across. "No Eowyn...I have been sick...for a   
long time." He swallowed painfully, feeling his end closer every moment.  
" I never said anything...I was born this way...there is nothing you can  
do."

Eowyn turned her face from him. She became rigid, ice wrapping itself  
around her heart. She felt sick, hurt, remorse, anger, and hate. She  
hated him. And at the same time, she didn't. She didn't hate him, but  
she should. She should hate him for all the lies; for all the sleepless   
nights knowing he was watching her; for all the taunting; for the  
betrayal; she should hate him; but she couldn't. She was angry toward  
him, more than she had ever been angry with anyone. It stirred in her like  
a caged animal; she fed on her anger toward him. But it was not hate.  
She had always convinced herself it was. But now as he lay dying, she  
realized it was completely different from hate. Somehow, somewhere along  
the line, she had gotten used to him. His obsession and passion for her  
had somehow become a part of her. She wasn't Eowyn without his love. She  
didn't know who she was without his love. It had been in her life for so   
long. It was like a disease that kept her alive.

"...I..." she began to speak, but stopped. What was there to say? What  
do you say to a dying man? The only thing to say was goodbye, and she   
didn't want to do that. She blinked away the blur of tears in her eyes.  
She damned him for making her cry. Damned him for leaving her. And  
damned herself for loving him. The truth was she hated loving him; but  
she loved loving him. She was torn by the emotion she felt. It would be  
so much easier if she did hate him. But love was something she neither  
wanted nor rejected.

"Are you happy to see me like this?" Grima asked softly. His swelled   
eyes couldn't see the conflict his words had caused her. He needed to  
know if his death brought about her happiness. Eowyn's eyes snapped to  
his. "Of course not!" Just hearing her say that, even though her tone  
was harsh, made him smile.

"So you don't hate me?" he asked.

There was no point in lying to each other anymore, she knew that. Her  
voice softened. "No. No I do not. I never have." Her words made him feel  
more joy than he had ever felt in his life. The pleasure it brought him  
was enough to make him cry. Even if she didn't love him, just her caring   
for him was enough, as long as she didn't despise him. He almost chocked  
on the sudden rush of tears and laughter, his breath quickening in his  
chest, till he was almost hyperventilating.

"Grima? What is wrong?!" Eowyn asked frantically. She touched the side  
of his face, caressing it tenderly. He smiled, "Nothing. I am just  
overjoyed. Nothing can hurt me more than having you despise me. And  
nothing could make me happier than knowing you care, even the slightest,  
for me."

Her heart broke for him; all this time she had treated him with contempt  
and malice, when all he wanted was for her to give him a chance. "...I  
wish there was something I could do," She said, her voice now revealing  
her emotion. "I am sorry. For everything."

Her confession shocked him. He knew if she could change things she  
would. She had a good heart, and that is a reason he loved her so much.  
Then he thought of something; she said she wished she could do something  
for him.

"Eowyn?"

"Yes?"

"Kiss me."

She stared at him. It was the last thing she would have expected him to  
say in his condition, but not even death could stop him from wanting  
her. And she wanted him back. She leaned toward him, her arms wrapping  
around his back, her lips touched his. Grima had half expected she would  
say no, but now, here he was in his angel's arms, feeling loved for the  
first time in his life. Never had he thought it would happen, unless  
Sarumon had kept his promise, but now Grima realized he would rather her  
not love him, then be forced to love him against her will.

Their kiss was unlike anything either had ever experienced. It was a way   
of connection, communication, and realization. They could talk without  
saying a word. They could understand each other as if they were one  
person. It was a spiritual connection; like discovering your soul mate  
for the first time. After what felt like hours, they pulled apart. Eowyn  
looked at the man beneath her. He was beautiful in his own way. She  
traced the outline of his face with her fingers, memorizing every inch  
of him, always wanting to remember this moment.

"I love you, Eowyn." He told her, and for a moment, it was as if he  
could see her. Her chest tightened with the regret of all the time she  
wasted in anger toward him. It was worth nothing now. He gave her one  
last smile, then his breath slowed, his eyes closed, and he slipped back   
against the pillows, his flesh became cold and hard against hers, like a  
lifeless doll. Eowyn wept against his chest. The man she knew was gone.


	2. Epilogue

Happy ending! This ending was inspired by Ada Adore's "Timeless" and  
Roxy Hunter's mystery of the moody ghost.  
---------------------------------------------------------

She had lived the life she wanted her to live; even if it was forbidden   
in the eyes of her people, she lived to her own expectations. She helped  
her brother rule after her uncle died, and some time later she married  
Faramir son of Denethor the second. They had three children, two boys,  
and a girl. She didn't regret her life, but she felt there was more she  
needed. Everyday she would think of Grima. Of his tragic life, and  
peaceful death. Of course she loved Faramir, he was a good man; but it  
was a different love than her love for Grima. Grima had been there from  
the beginning, watching over her. His sickness for her was her cure. A  
cure she didn't know existed until he was gone. His death made her  
discover things about herself that she never knew, and would never have   
admitted to herself; she was a human being, her time on earth would one  
day run out, and she wouldn't spend it in the shadows. So she went on  
with her life, made a family, a name for herself, became a warrior, a  
free spirit.

Now, here she was, an old woman on her death bed, and she couldn't help  
but think of those last moments with Grima all those years ago. Is this  
how he felt? He wasn't afraid she knew, and as much as she had never  
looked forward to dying, neither was she. She was ready. She would step  
out of this journey and into another, but not alone. As her family   
waited mournfully around her bedside, she took her last breath, feeling  
a weight life from her, like she was floating. A hand touched hers  
gently, a she heard his deep soothing voice for the first time in a long  
time.

"Eowyn. I've been waiting for you."

She opened her eyes to see him. He looked so different; the scar below  
his lip had healed, his eyes sparkled a new, lively blue, he stood  
straight, and he was no longer pale, he was handsome. He looked happy.

"Grima?" It was to real to be a dream, he was really here, in front of  
her, holding her hand, grinning at her. She looked over to see the body  
she had left; the old hollow reflection of the woman she was, the woman   
she is. Her family cried around her, not knowing she could see them  
clearly as if she were still in her body. She looked down at her hands,  
she was no longer frail and old, but the young woman she used to be, the  
young woman she had been the day Grima had died. No, not dead, just  
absent from his body, just like she is now. And they were together. She  
smiled lovingly at Grima and kissed him passionately.

"Are you ready?" he asked breathlessly, staring intently into her two  
crystal bright eyes. She nodded, taking his hand. This was the  
fulfillment of her life, her last request.


End file.
